


Vie Him Sane

by sun_incarnate



Series: The Divine, Once Again [3]
Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Haknyeon as Dionysus, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Injuries, Sunwoo as Athena, Sunwoo-centric, the gods having ichor (golden blood) doesn't make the imagery less gruesome for some so, though nothing that serious/fatal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_incarnate/pseuds/sun_incarnate
Summary: "Tell me, do you not feel the madness?"Palms digging deep unto the clothed flesh of Haknyeon's thighs, Sunwoo rises and catches the lips that had started to detach from his.Sunwoo has missed being a god.
Relationships: Ju Haknyeon/Kim Sunwoo
Series: The Divine, Once Again [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783480
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Vie Him Sane

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not a stand-alone, and is a continuation of this series' first upload.
> 
> Note: Whenever the topic of ancient Greek's beliefs come up, know that it isn't to represent what I think of the current nation and race as whole. It's mostly opinion and what I can understand from the way they've written their literature (the myths and all else, like the Homeric stuff), and everything's in reference to the ancient Greeks from the myths. 
> 
> Consequently, the characters' views, opinions, and beliefs are not reflective of the people we know (the idols themselves). My works do not intend to insult, mock, offend, idealize, nor romanticize religious beliefs, or to display actions that may come off as such. 
> 
> Remember that they aren't humans in this series.
> 
> **Please don't translate my works without my permission. Don't copy or take credit for any of my works.**
> 
> \- ATHENE (Athena) was the Olympian goddess of wisdom and good counsel, war, the defence of towns, heroic endeavour, weaving, pottery and various other crafts. She was depicted as a stately woman armed with a shield and spear, and wearing a long robe, crested helm, and the famed Aigis--a snake-trimmed cape adorned with the monstrous visage of the Gorgon Medousa (Medusa). [Source.](https://www.theoi.com/Olympios/Athena.html)  
> \- Dionysos (Dionysus) was the Olympian god of wine, vegetation, pleasure, festivity,  
> madness and wild frenzy. [Source.](https://www.theoi.com/Olympios/Dionysos.html)

"Tell me, do you not feel the madness?"

 _Feel the madness_. It makes Sunwoo rear up, wanting to accept the challenge presented to him. Haknyeon, _Dionysus_ , is nothing to the millennia he's spent being Olympus' true champion, brain over brawn a saying testament to the power he wields. Sunwoo has prided once and will continue to pride himself over this one thing he has absolute control over, this attribution that nobody else can contest with against him.

So, palms digging deep unto the clothed flesh of Haknyeon's thighs, Sunwoo rises and catches the lips that had started to detach from his.

The bitterness of his earlier drinks comes creeping up from deep his throat, but he holds the bile back and continues chasing that wine-sweetness that he'd almost been addicted to.

Sunwoo has missed being a god.

He's reborn, reincarnated, remade. This new body that holds Athena's divinity had been barely a decade old when she'd noticed the changes.

Gone were the plaits of her hair and her breasts and all the softnesses of her that she'd hidden behind armor as she'd always clothed herself for war. They're all replaced by barely-pubescent hardness, the body still on the edges of childhood clinging onto the weaknesses a protected youth grants mortals. 

Her first thought— _His_ first thought had been to weave glamour over himself, magic and mist and godly veils he'd called to cover his scent, connecting threads of Fate and memories to shape his existence.

He woke up on a bed with no thunder echoing all around him, as was what is ever-present in Olympus courtesy of Zeus' contiguity. There were posters mounted on the wall adjacent the bed, a bare shelf opposite him and a school bag on the floor stuffed with notebooks bearing the name of his new identity.

 _Kim Sunwoo_. 

So Sunwoo then caught on quick, grasping personal relations and reshaping his idle divinity so it stays hidden for a time.

Being stuck in a body that has no experience whatsoever of holding _this_ great a power comes with a price, and in his vulnerability he feels near naked. Any sign of godhood shown in a mortal body is a beacon for all those waiting for the fall of the gods, so he hid the grey eyes and the storm of his mind and the stubborn _stubborn_ pride, if only to make himself less of a target than what he already is. 

Being reborn signals a new start, and along this chance is the rebirth of one's greatest foes. Fate is fair to all, knowing no right nor wrong; Even he acknowledges this, finding no sense to a world where evil is not given the chance to exist.

He continued acting until he's seen through the end of his childhood, then starting to unravel when he's come of age. University had given him the chance to at least let go of some of his control, his divinity then seeping through books and presence but held back so it's then enough to fill only the buildings and study halls.

It wasn't much, a far cry from the last time he'd been able to _be_ , but Sunwoo took the chance, even if he'd have to have been more than careful even for the simplest tricks. It's the attunement he has with his divinity that had allowed him this much control over it in the first place.

And just like this, Sunwoo knows he mustn't be swayed by anything, that being intrepid is the way of wisdom. This belief has proven true all throughout the lifetimes he's spent watching over every city-state that has called upon his name, and even today it still holds true. 

Which is why he feels himself being so violated, even when he's consciously choosing to be impassioned with by the most unlikely god or feeling he'd ever thought to associate himself with.

 _Ruthlessness is your way_.

Sunwoo draws first blood and almost loses himself to the taste of gold.

Haknyeon he feels grinning underneath the skin of his lips, and Sunwoo feels ichor smearing the surfaces of his mouth. The blood of the gods is heavy on his tongue, and everything still tastes like wine.

"You wound me, Sunwoo-yah."

Then is when he pushes past what inhibitions he's put up.

Sunwoo snakes his hands along shoulders and plays with the longer strands of Haknyeon's hair, driving away all memories of hymns singing of his chastity. Heated skin, mad mad mad, the head before him thrown back neck exposed to give him space to roam. Sunwoo puts the chance to good use, allowing himself to be washed over with Haknyeon's influence.

This desperation that makes him needy feels like dirt on his skin, but if he's to see his plans through then he'll use everything he has, every weapon on his arsenal to be spent if only to stay one step ahead of his enemies. War has casualties, the art of it he intimately knows is bloody and gruesome, and Sunwoo is only worth his name if he emerges victoriously unscathed from it.

 _If Haknyeon thinks he's made me maniacal, then let me_ be _manic._

He goes back up and kisses hard, swallowing ichor and pretending to not taste the grapewine that comes along with it. "You said so yourself. You're a god, aren't you, Haknyeon?"

The languid eagerness that shows through the distracted nods speaks volumes of why Haknyeon's sacred animals are creatures of felinities.

"Then heal, and I'll wound you some more."

Sunwoo's mind is overshot with all the possibilities of where this night may end up, drawing plans to map his actions and find the best course to victory. He knows he's straying a bit farther than what he had first planned his path to be, but he welcomes the chance at adaptation anyway.

The cut on Haknyeon's lip heals the same time Sunwoo presses hard between parted thighs, and the boldness elicits a gasped laugh out of Haknyeon, whose eyes stay golden even at the sudden calm of his carefree expression. Haknyeon doesn't push him away, but Sunwoo feels hands on his hips and decides for himself to stop being carried away.

Though, he makes sure that his words continue to come in rumbles so as to retain the feel of the moment. "You have got to replace your lights."

He looks up to blind himself over them, the fluorescent glare clearing the fog of his mind a bit.

He's aware of the position he's in, is feeling the heaviness of Haknyeon's gaze on his bared throat. Sunwoo's just mulling over the sudden palpability of its weight when he realizes that Haknyeon's pressed his palm to it, fingers wrapping around his neck.

He need not press any pressure point for Sunwoo to admit that he's feeling lightheaded.

"Through all the things that you've started, now is when you notice the lights?" Haknyeon's eyes are unfocused. Sunwoo had wanted to change the lights to see the pure gold of them.

"It makes everything look better. Golden. It's unfair to your eyes." 

The moment everything starts to glow is when gold loses its value. And despite the obvious show of power, Haknyeon's eyes are just another set of golden things in this place, making him seem less powerful even here in his element.

Sunwoo hates it, being held back. He knows this is a trait all them gods share, the want for freedom to be what they truly are. Haknyeon deserves that, no laws here inside his revel. Haknyeon should be given the chance to _be_.

Certain of the effect of his words, Sunwoo goes back to the perch of his seat, not minding the body that faces him. He's never really minded passions and sexual intimacy, it's just that to him there are always more pressing matters to pay attention to. Why would he spend his time losing himself to pleasure when there are cities always seeking his help? It's the discipline and order of him speaking, qualities he's made himself with, being the protectress of city-states even now.

Or, at least, that's what he thinks his reason had probably been. Athena had always just been being, rushing through forward relentlessly so much so she hasn't the time for anything else other than thinking of what she could do in the present to ensure the possibility of a future.

Now all that remains under her true protection is the city bearing her name, all the other places forsaken by their own patrons. But nevertheless this country that he'd been reborn in is starting to hold a place in his heart, as do all the countries where his previous incarnates had lived.

Sunwoo's mission, as had been the moment he's had a firmer grasp of his new body, is to hunt his own foes. He'd received no word from the other gods, so then he'd assumed that they must be recovering from their own rebirth too. His presence in Seoul means that his archenemies would be drawn to the city, and among the most dangerous of them had been _her_.

She is by no means powerful enough to single-handedly go against Sunwoo, that much he knows, but wiliness pushed by pride and the taste for revenge is what makes her a little difficult to handle. Sunwoo knows it's a weakness to not admit the strengths of one's opponents.

 _Spinning her damned webs, insulting the might of the gods_ , it's only a matter of time before she consumes this city if Sunwoo stays immobile. 

Haknyeon rises over the counter and goes back to his station, the action only a surprise to Sunwoo as he'd let himself get lost in thought.

Taking glasses on his hands once again, the revel behind Sunwoo starts to calm a bit, the music no longer as pounding as it had been when he's returned Haknyeon's advances. People start heading to the bar, and the surge has Haknyeon busy sliding drinks atop the counter.

Sunwoo eyes him as he takes both their glasses and starts lining them up to be filled. _But not busy enough for me to not talk to._

"What's that?" he asks, hand reaching to take a glass.

It's a tapestry that's hung behind Haknyeon as he mixes both their drinks, and when Sunwoo lets his gaze roam around the space of the club he sees that there's some more on the walls, contrasting the modern polish of the place. 

That's what he's staying for, the sight of them when he's first entered the club making his skin prickle, and he knows that if he's right then all painstaking efforts spent in staying and waiting in this unruly place would have been fruitful in the nearing end.

Haknyeon sets both their drinks atop the bar's counter before following Sunwoo's line of sight, turning his head to look behind him. The unbuttoned top of his shirt is spread wider apart by the action, and Sunwoo tries to not think of how he's probably been the reason for the marks that reds proud on Haknyeon's skin.

He's thinking back to when he's spaced out just minutes earlier, when he's let the wine and the air and the headiness get to him, things he'd ought to not have been focused on in the first place. It's not Sunwoo's fault that it's been so long since the last time he'd felt like this, like he's actually doing something with the godhood that rages inside him like some ever-present headache. 

He's well aware that his core is that which upholds the harmony of the state by law and proper conduct, so in extension Sunwoo's the god known for military discipline and the mind that sees through everything, amongst all other things he rules over.

So the association with the god of madness has Sunwoo thinking about his earlier actions, the recklessness he'd allowed himself to indulge in, and the way that he'd let his body be as ungodly of him as it could ever be.

But Sunwoo stops his thoughts, however, when it's starting to give out vivid details of the way he'd let his mouth linger on Haknyeon's skin far more than what should have been necessary. He does not need any more recollections of what the wine god's skin tastes like.

"That's a tapestry." 

He snaps back to the present, tongue already feeling a little bit heavy even when he has no memory of ever taking a sip from the drink already in his hand. Huh. 

The party raves calmer behind him, and he blames his momentary unawareness to the fact that he's literally sitting in front of the Greek god of madness, separated only by the counter that's littered with all the glasses he's already emptied. _Huh_.

 _Like he doesn't know what a tapestry is, gods. "_ I meant what _is_ that, why's it here. It throws off the whole club's ambiance." 

But that's a minor disturbance in Sunwoo's mind, of course, now when he could never choose to prioritize the way the interior's design is put together. The tapestry just bothers him, is all, something in him seized by apprehension at the sight of it. It's probably the shimmer of the surface, something faint like a veil of godly glamour, but he can't be sure. And as he can't pinpoint just what it is yet, he turns his attention to other matters. 

So back to the drink in his hand, he thinks of its influence in and of itself; As what consumes him, in the moment, is the way he can feel Haknyeon's sway washing over him in slow ebbing tides.

It's how he's unknowingly drained glasses that he has absolutely no memory of holding, how that realization makes him freeze up for it implies that he's losing his grip on his own divinity, because it means that the call of madness is now getting stronger against the inner wall he's put up with his own saneness. 

The true danger of Haknyeon, Sunwoo knows, is that he entices you to first take just a sip, just a drop, just a taste. And giving in to that is damnation. 

But not to Sunwoo. 

Or at least he thinks it shouldn't be, because he's here with a purpose and he knows of the importance his duty holds, aware of the weight it would soon show itself with. Knowledge is advantage is power is victory.

He drains his glass and drags a full one to replace the emptied.

"It's a gift, from Circe." 

_Circe? Magic, sorcery?_

Sunwoo has no reason to believe why the witch would ever frequent this place, much less decorate it with imbued tapestries. But he humors Haknyeon anyway, who's always eager to chatter around just as long as Sunwoo keeps drinking. It's all a game to him.

"Circe as in, the witch? The Greek sorceress from the myths?" 

Haknyeon laughs delighted, the sound of it bouncing around Sunwoo's head so insistent it reminds him of when he'd been stuck inside the head of Zeus. 

"You believed me when I told you I'm Dionysus, but you're still…" He hums, and Sunwoo tries to kill the smile that stretches his lips.

"Skeptical?"

"And you're still skeptical." Haknyeon snaps his fingers, as if Sunwoo's never helped him find the right word. "You believed me, Sunwoo. Are you a 'see-is-to-believe' kind of person?" 

"Not really. I just like knowing that what I put my beliefs in are the right things." 

"Makes me remember, earlier you said you believed in Christianity. How's that working out for you now when what you're seeing, in the flesh, is a _real_ , _physical_ god?"

He huffs out a breath. Sunwoo could never damn anybody over personal beliefs. Even with his wisdom, he's never been one to condemn anybody simply for what they found comfort and solace in. That bit about being a Christian was just to look more mortal in Haknyeon's eyes, but gods, does Sunwoo want to give up this act and just turn back to all his grey-eyed glory.

The drink on his glass shines dull like liquid rust, but he has faith that Haknyeon wouldn't think to poison him. It's more like the color of nectar, though he tries to think of it as a mistake that Haknyeon's poured him the drink of the gods, but Sunwoo downs it anyway.

A dangerous move, but he needs the show of trust. "So you're saying I can't believe in both of you simultaneously? Give me some credit, Haknyeon, I'm smarter than that."

The drink tastes too sweet to be whiskey.

 _Keep it up, keep the act up._ "I've handled much worse, more earth-shattering things. Theology and religious beliefs are nothing to what I've lived through."

Haknyeon leans into his space again, and if Sunwoo hadn't seen the hickeys on his skin as he moved he might have thought this isn't flirting. "And what might those be, hm? What earth-shattering things have you witnessed?"

Sunwoo itches with the need to give out knowledge. _Wars, losing to Beauty and Love, Olympus parted to sides in a war started for the fairest woman._

_Being disgraced, being humiliated, being told that wisdom and pride isn't enough. Being challenged like I needed to prove my worth to a mere mortal._

He shouldn't be effortlessly affected by the question, he knows, but it's also so much easier to think of your fears and misfortunes than to look for the strengths that have carried you through them. _Athens no longer believing, my temples reduced to nothing but ruins._

 _History littered with the names of my priestesses raped within the walls of my own sacred temples_.

"7-am calculus classes and the biggest zits on class picture day."

That crows a high giggle out of Haknyeon, who turns away to serve another customer, but not before showing an apologetic smile to Sunwoo. 

The other person who's just slid into a seat a few spaces over looks to have just arrived, going by the scarf still on his neck no doubt to protect him from the night's chill. In the addition to the body count Sunwoo notices that the air of the club's warmer now, but even through all the alcohol he's taken he doesn't think it's from them alone. The atmosphere's toasty, cozy even though it makes sweat trickle down the line of his spine.

But he dismisses it as effect of the alcohol, and the sight of Haknyeon's smile that has dimmed down a degree when he's facing the other patron.

In his sudden isolation, Sunwoo thinks back to what Haknyeon had said. Circe. Of course he knows who she is, the disbelief earlier only expressed to keep his act. The witch is neutral party, but Sunwoo holds a somewhat personal grudge over the fact that she's tricked his favored heroes before. 

He needs information, and he's willing to spend time in this place if it means he'd come out the door wiser.

So when Haknyeon nears him, Sunwoo reaches out to touch his arm.

"Haknyeon-ah, it's almost morning, about time the crowd starts to thin. I know," he interrupts, before Haknyeon could even follow the raised eyebrow with a complaint, "You can keep them here forever, but these minds are bound to want to not be mad the whole week, no?

"So why don't we play a game, just you and I. Nothing too serious, of course, just something to pass time with. I don't really want to spend money on drinks while waiting for an orgy to happen on the dancefloor." 

Haknyeon deadpans, but lets it go anyway. It's no secret that something so—Sunwoo tries to think of a word, mind switching between languages just to find the best one, alcoholic nectar slowing his thoughts until at last he comes up with— _obscene_ is bound to happen, with what taste of godhood Haknyeon's been feeding them with.

"And you won't be like those _minds_? You want to stay? Mad?" 

There. What's a barely-affected crowd against one person who's willing to be completely maddened? Sunwoo is betting on the chance that even through the amount of people in this club Haknyeon still wouldn't pass up the opportunity to completely own someone's entire sanity.

"Though, hope you won't have me let out a maniacal sort of evil laughter just to prove that I'm a little bit not sane."

It's been so long since Sunwoo had last seen a smile so disarming. 

Haknyeon waves a hand and a girl appears beside him. He leans in to whisper a few words, and just so she jumps into action, pulling up bottles and shakers to continue the flow of drinks.

"Just a game, just a game. And what do you have in mind?"

_Something easy, strategic. Something not bound by the pressure of time but still enough to keep his attention on me, and yet enough to let his mind wander while I ask things of him._

_A game that will not question my victory_.

"Chess."

Haknyeon complies readily, and when he drums his fingers on the marble counter Sunwoo can't help but think of magic tricks.

Though he knows that this isn't magic, no, there's something else in the glass pieces that comes emerging from the marble. Haknyeon draws them out steadily, eyes not even gold just a proof that this isn't taking much from him, and when the process finishes Sunwoo can't help but be impressed at the glass chessboard that reflects the lights overhead.

Haknyeon frowns in his direction, "It's not a party trick. Stop calling it that."

"What? I didn't even say anything!" 

"Your face said so," grumbling as he takes a seat on the other side of the bar, and Sunwoo finds that the grin he's letting out is genuine.

Though, the creases on Haknyeon's face are gone the same time he makes Sunwoo look to the board. "Watch this.

"Pawn to B-4."

The glass pawn moves a space forward, and Sunwoo doesn't even think of arguing why Haknyeon had gone on the first turn.

He has better things to worry about.

"What's that you were saying about Circe? Pawn to D-4." 

Sunwoo's plan is working, with how Haknyeon doesn't even look up from where he's studying the board.

"She's helped me here, made the tapestries to encourage mortals to stay." Hanyeon waves his hand as if in dismissal, then settles his chin atop it as one of Sunwoo's rooks smashes an opponent bishop.

The brutality of the game is a little surprising, even to him. "Nothing wrong with a little bit of magic now, is there?" 

_Nothing. If it isn't given in ill-intent_.

"And the mortal sort of alcohol is too easy for them! They keep downing bottle after bottle. Gods, I'm just short of thinking to pouring Olympian wine on their glasses just so they'd stay longer."

_But why aren't you hesitating in filling my glass with nectar?_

"So Circe coming by was sort of deliverance for you, huh?" 

Haknyeon moves a piece on the board and pulls back his sleeves from where they've started to unroll down his arms. "I don't like admitting to weakness, and by that you'd know what I'm meaning. 

"But between you and me, I really fear magic sometimes. Look at that." He purses his lips in the direction of a tapestry, and Sunwoo has to tear his eyes away from the pout to look at where his sight is led. 

And there it is.

Hung on the leftmost wall is a full tapestry spanning from ceiling to floor. It looks so out of place in this club, with the modern tech and the modern clothes and modern everything. It's framed in gold, the pattern of it so archaic Athena softens at the nostalgia setting in her. 

It's a weave depicting an outdoor banquet, of gods and nymphs and all sorts of ancient entities gallivanting about with laughter on their faces. The dimensions are unbelievably realistic, enough that even she could not deny its beauty. She understands Dionysus' fear of the power, for even she is subject to the enticement from it that begs her to stay. 

If she wasn't told of its deceptiveness she might have believed that the tapestry is a window to the outdoors, or a glass doorway to an adjoined sanctum where the club's patrons are only allowed to voyeur in. 

It makes her want to reach out, join in the mirth that they give off, to be carefree and festive and with the gods again.

But _No_. Comes a strict reprimand, to keep himself in check. _Tonight, today, for this lifetime you are Kim Sunwoo. Tonight, you are not to show that you are one of them._

"Does that look like amateur magic to you? Because to me it looks too close to godhood more than anything else. What was she doing, playing with a power like that? You'd think she's the greatest weaver to have ever walked the earth, with hands capable of making that."

_The greatest weaver._

_No_. Sunwoo would not subject himself to recklessness tonight. He limits himself, drawing a line to control his temper and the pride that rears up at the offense.

Haknyeon didn't mean that, he knows, he'd said _You'd think she's the greatest weaver_ , so it's up to Sunwoo to actually contemplate it. And no, he will not. He knows his victory is never to be questioned, that he hadn't made that monster all those ages ago just to admit tonight that he isn't the best out of anything.

"You know, your eyes looked grey for a second there."

"Must be the light, not like I can change their color at will. Knight to E-5."

The stranger seated a few seats next to him inclines his head their way, and Sunwoo catches a whiff of smoke before it's lost to the cloud of perfume that wafts through as people pass by. It smelled familiar, but before he could even think of identifying it it's already gone, so he figures it must just be his intoxication talking.

And that wakes him up a little, forcing his way through the cloud that mists his mind. It's bad news, even just noticing it like that, because then is a reminder that the situation's getting out of Sunwoo's hand.

But, "Queen to E-5."

It comes lazy from across him, and the glass figure of a queen moves across the plane of clear crystal. 

Sunwoo looks to the pieces he still has left and counts, not flinching from the sound of breaking glass as the opponent queen smashes his knight to shards. A hand picks up the remains of his knight, and he wants to remind its owner to be careful of the edges lest he draws blood. 

He's halfway to opening his mouth in reprimand when a hiss sounds out, and Sunwoo prepares himself to see red droplets from the wound. Braces his will, because the color is one that reminds him of fragility and of battlefields that went unavoided even after careful planning, stains that follow him still through all the wars he's walked through. 

A wince again, but the drops that fall are gold. 

_Ah_ , it makes Sunwoo look up. And he remembers who he's playing against.

"Rook to C-3." The piece is smooth in its glide, where Sunwoo had first expected an ear-splitting shrill to sound off when they'd just started.

He doesn't mind spending time like this, when even in his idleness he's still being forced to think. Sunwoo's mind is halved with the effort of keeping track of his questions along with noting the information Haknyeon answers them with, and with keeping an eye on the game. 

As their pieces are reduced, Sunwoo's chances are too. With the answers given to him, he figures that the foes he's looking for haven't been here at all. Haknyeon's only talking about nymphs and satyrs and Circe, and the occasional demigods passing through, so it seems like his stay has become unfruitful, after all.

_But that just means one less place to search at, one more god who's location is discovered, and a possible alliance. No such plan of yours is unfruitful, you simply got other results._

"The fruitiest drink you've got, please."

Haknyeon perks up from before him, and Sunwoo looks to the direction of the voice that had asked for the drink.

"Oh? Pretty lazy game you've got there, chess with—" the woman leans in to take a closer look on their glasses, and when she draws back she smiles somewhat eerily—"nectar? Dionysus, what would your father think, being so _naughty_!" 

Haknyeon smiles at her, and even gets up to stop the girl that had taken over his station. She stands to the side as Haknyeon himself prepares the order, personally seeing to the request and pulling bottles from the shelves so Sunwoo figures out that she must be someone important to him.

_An old acquaintance? A minor goddess he'd befriended? His wife Ariadne?_

"Sweetheart, I tell you what." She wags a finger at Sunwoo's face, and she starts to annoy him though he can't think of why."Never take your eyes off your pieces. This god here—Yes, you're playing with a god—is too much of a trickster. You guard your pieces well, I tell you. Play good, even if it's just a game."

"You say that as if I'm Hermes." 

And he puts a glass gently atop the counter, the pink of its contents not sloshing around courtesy of his carefulness.

"I still haven't seen him when he should've been all over the place, so you might as well be. Want to take over his role?"

Sunwoo doesn't like the way she's talking about them gods. Maybe it's his pride speaking, or the countless glasses of godly nectar he's already downed, but Fate's sake, they're _Olympians_! If she knows who Haknyeon truly is, has even called him by his true name, then why won't she respect him? You'd think she's talking about some D-list minor god, with the way she's throwing around such words.

"I've had my eyes on my pieces this whole time, ma'am. I don't think I could have guarded them any better than I already have. Sorry, but I don't need your advice."

The pink drink matches the color of her lips, though the flesh's fullness disappears as she sneers. "Did you not hear me? I said you're playing with a god, _sweetheart_ , and you'd do well doing some thinking before the next words you say, now."

Sunwoo tries to keep himself calm, and out of the corner of his eyes he spies Haknyeon looking back and forth between them. _The nerve of this mortal, telling me what and what not to do_. 

The woman seems to detest him much as he her, and satisfaction lines Sunwoo's mouth to a smirk. Color starts to come rushing to her face, and now that she's consumed alcohol the flush of her skin is even more noticeable. 

"Dionysus, you better keep your friend in check. I don't like the attitude of him, he speaks like he's an Olympian when he doesn't even feel like one."

Sunwoo keeps his divinity at bay, clinging on to the discipline he's perfected and demanded of himself. He looks to Haknyeon instead. _What will you do, Haknyeon. What will you do._

But even through the challenge Sunwoo makes sure is seen in his eyes, Haknyeon only turns to the woman and smiles meek. Though, Sunwoo sees fury enough to start turning his eyes golden, but he must have suppressed the urge to smite her, going by the way the glow fades back to a dark mortal hue.

_What do you owe her, for you to submit yourself like this?_

"Sunwoo, this is Circe. She's the one who gave me the tapestries, the one we were talking about earlier.

"Circe, this is Sunwoo. He's just a customer, though I apologize for his behavior, he's had much to drink."

"Quite bold of him, to stand up against me. Alcohol, hm? Liquid courage." She doesn't look at Sunwoo again. "Dionysus, what had you been making your customers drink? With the way he's acting, I dare say everybody in this club wouldn't have trouble disrespecting even the highest of the gods! You're sure you can still mix drinks properly?" 

And that's got to make Haknyeon's temper flare, Sunwoo knows. It's one thing to speak so casually with them, and with mortals they've allowed it only for those unaware of who they truly are, especially in the more modern centuries.

But hinting, not even subtly, that a god is losing his touch over his own godhood? The quality that has made him divine?

"I don't think I'd need to be helped with what I'm the god of, Circe." 

Circe stands up from where she's just started to take a seat beside Sunwoo, and the action causes the drink in her hand to splash off the glass' rim. The drops fall on her dress, and as Sunwoo looks at the spread of the liquid on the fabric he's struck with a thought he can't grasp due to the fleeting occurrence of it.

_Think!_

"Circe," she scoffs, "stop calling me that. I'm better than that witch. And you, you think you're so good, so godly, hiding here in your club like all of the other Olympians, still too weak from you rebirth to even show up on our radar? Who do you think you are, you drunkard?"

_Gods. It can't be._

"No, who do you think you are, talking to me like we're equals?" The air all but burns in Haknyeon's anger, words coming out of him in snarls enraged by this woman before him. " _Who do you think you are, insulting me and the council of the gods, calling us Olympians weak?_ " 

The game is all but forgotten on the countertop, and when Sunwoo looks to he sees that Haknyeon's hand is still dripping ichor. He must smell so sweet to this woman.

"You've given me a name, though incorrectly. I don't know if I'll be insulted! Really, Dionysus, you're losing your touch."

This causes Haknyeon to falter, and in the gap of his emotions the air cools back down, change rapid it makes goosebumps on Sunwoo's skin. He knows he has no business interfering if Haknyeon does not ask for his help first, that he'd need this woman to say who she truly is before he takes a step. Even in his anger at all the insults, Sunwoo knows that he mustn't act too incautiously. 

Athena is never Ares when it comes to war.

"But you said your name was Circe!" Sunwoo sees the gold again, a bright glimmer in the calm of the browns, reawakened by the fury of being lied at.

Circe, no—The woman has the audacity to laugh, the sound of it breathy and high even through the noise of the party. "You guessed, darling. You called me Circe when you thought I weaved with magic." 

The air smells sudden sweet, but not the kind that had been present when Haknyeon called upon his blessing hours ago. Ghosts of things crawl on Sunwoo's skin, and even without thinking about it he knows that these are all this woman's children.

 _The Mother of Arachnids_. The scent permeates heavier, grows more familiar, sickly. Decaying. Like the smell of fruits before you get too close and see that they're all rotten, crawling with worms.

It's choking him up, along with the slight fear as he's reminded of what pride could sometimes lead to.

"I'm Arachne." 

She reaches down and plucks Haknyeon's king from off the chessboard, the glass surface of the piece reflecting light as she turns it over in her hands. "I don't take kindly to being called names, but I'll forgive you, don't worry. To think my tapestries would be woven with magic, ha! I don't know, maybe I'd take pride for that. The next thing you know you'd be calling me Athena!" 

Sunwoo shakes with the struggle of maintaining his composure; _Through all the damned ages, this_ monster _has been reborn and is still contemptuous as ever, I should have known, there's no way that Circe would have given this much to Haknyeon with nothing in exchange._

He looks to Arachne, who's leaned down as she places the king piece back to the board, setting it besides Sunwoo's queen piece.

"Makes you wonder, hm? It's all natural, Dionysus," she all but spats out the last word, as if Haknyeon's name leaves a foul taste on her tongue. "Call me if you need more of my works, I know you won't be able to keep this revel up for long."

She reaches over and taps a finger on Haknyeon's cheek. "I'll be here in an instant." 

Arachne looks to the table and the pieces left unshattered, something like belittlement all over her beady eyes. "Enjoy your game."

She rights her posture and straightens, fixing her dress from where it's rumpled with the littlest wrinkles. But, even in his anger, Sunwoo appreciates the beauty of the fabric. Must be handwoven by Arachne herself, the deep blue shimmering like sunlit waves and looking so much like the seas it's no wonder Haknyeon thought the tapestries were magic. 

_Pity, had you not insulted Olympus and the gods back then I'd have thought to favor you._

She turns to walk away, and Sunwoo's just deciding how to trap her best when she pats his shoulder.

"Sweetheart, take his king, it's a checkmate! You seemed to not know what to do, so there, I helped you. No need to thank me, it's just a game, after all." Sunwoo hates how she chatters on and on. Her yapping layers to the feeling of spiders still crawling on his skin. 

"Hate to be held up, places to be, threads to spin. Bye!"

Arachne is gone from his line of sight, and teetering between decisions like this is when Sunwoo sometimes loses parts of his senses. 

It's most likely the ages spent on battle tactics and the single-minded focus of planning for victory, and now the ruthlessness of his mind is making itself known. Sunwoo is most merciless to himself, the everlasting knowledge he possesses at times more curse than divinity that even he would sometimes falter when catching up with his thoughts. It's this body, he knows, this mind not yet fully-equipped to handle what the goddess of wisdom is truly capable of so his full potential is yet to be reached. 

This overload is the hum that sits in his bones a far deeper reach than Haknyeon's madness. It blankets him, making his senses go numb.

He's no longer aware of the club-bass, not hearing the halt of Arachne's stilettos against the floor, not even registering the things that he's doing. It's all dark in his mind now, unleashed from all the years that he's allowed himself only the tiniest flickers of pride and true knowledge to light up the truest parts of him.

The ones that still hunger for the rush of the wars.

"Awfully bold of you to think I'd be needing any help."

Haknyeon from across him goes wide-eyed, and Sunwoo hadn't the care to attempt to smother the low laugh that comes tumbling out of his sneer. Without even voicing it, he realizes the queen piece has moved. Gold splatters all over the glass. Sunwoo's hand is throbbing, a ring appearing around his thumb.

"Walking away from me, girl of Lydia?" 

Sunwoo turns his head to look at Arachne, who's gone still mid-step. How could he have forgotten the intoxication he gets at the rush of true power? How could he have denied himself _this_?

"For that was where you're hailed, was it not? I remember your loom, your humble home," he looks to the tapestries hung on the club's walls, his smile he lets twist even more, "I remember you insulting me, just like this. Boasting around, too proud, not even thinking that I might be listening."

Haknyeon's king is shattered to bits and Sunwoo realizes he must've tried to pick up the pieces earlier. His eyes are on Sunwoo's hand. There's blood everywhere.

Sunwoo clenches his hand but the gold still flows, and from where it's pooled on the countertop is where the drops coaster the bottom of his queen piece.

"Feeling proud at how you need all eight of your legs to actually spin something, craft a quality noticeably lesser than what I could do with two hands?" 

Sunwoo lets go of his fist's clench and there's a scream behind him, the sound of fabric being ripped torn, and he need not look to know what had happened. What he'd _made_ happen.

The sickly-sweet stench is back again full force, but Sunwoo's familiar with this. It is, after all, a mere reenactment, a modernized piece of history. There's a heavy presence he feels in the air the same time he lets go of his control and notices that there are three gods in the space of the club.

Arachne he knows is changing into her true form, the one that Sunwoo had given her all those eras ago. The mother of spiders is a black widow, the hourglass mark red on her abdomen Sunwoo sees even when he's not looking. The image of it makes him want to lash out and war, divinity rising and heating up like—

Three gods? Sunwoo keeps his form steady, not risking anything. _Not now, whoever you may turn out to be. Not now._

"You think you could take away this city, thought you could build your nest in these streets. Though I must say," he stands up, a quick flick of his wrist making gold spatter over more surfaces, "you almost succeeded this time."

The stranger from a couple of seats next to his has something like fire in his eyes, but Haknyeon's take Sunwoo's attention away for himself. Everything's lit with gold, every surface colored a heady nectar; but it's no contest to what Haknyeon levels him with.

The glow shines even more, the lights now not comparing to the pureness of it, when Sunwoo whispers in his mind: _You're a god, aren't you, Haknyeon?_

It's a silent plea, a call for help so that nobody may ever come out of this club harmed except for their foes. 

And it's heard, granted; Gold runs under Haknyeon's skin, mapping out veins and lifelines in molten metal. The revel behind Sunwoo all but bursts with the blessing, the scent of wine sweet covering what Arachne's started to give off. Sunwoo's skin tingles with the need to let go, the desire to inflict rightful punishment to this monster that has insulted the might of the gods over and over again.

It makes his skin run hotter, like somebody's staring at him with blazing coal eyes, but amidst screams of _You grey-eyed bitch! You damned owl, you think you can keep this city safe? You wait for my children, you just wait for the second coming of the giants!_ sounding off behind him Sunwoo still refuses to look back. 

Arachne does not deserve that recognition.

There's a violent thrashing he hears, eight legs thumping against the floor as he makes Arachne writhe in pain. The transformation from glamoured form to true monstrosity had always hurted monsters when the process is forced by a god's hand, and Arachne is not saved from it. The journey to Tartarus would be painful, and she'd be spending her time deformed and swirling in the murky Chaos. She'd weave no webs and build no nests down there; The punishment would be her eternal and utter unbeing.

As is what beings of pride most fear.

Sunwoo can't find it in himself to pity her. _Ruthlessness is my way._

But Arachne will do anything to drag Sunwoo with her, so it does not surprise him when something wraps around his forearm. It's a silk thread, drying in the air from where it's come fresh from Arachne's spinneret.

In instinctual defense, Aigis flashes on his thumb, the silver of it a reminder to Sunwoo, its unconcealed weight heavy on his finger. If he wished it, his spear and helm would appear out of thin air to complete his war form. So he'd fashioned his shield to a ring, so that it may be with him at all times. These times are into convenience, and how could he be expected to lug on a heavy shield to protect himself when he's moving everywhere? 

But he needs no shield now, and the visage of Medusa on Aigis' true form would only cause more terror than what would be necessary. So even through the alcohol and the mad mad _madness_ he stills maintains his control, reining it in and making sure that his divinity and only his divinity is showing through. 

"You think you know us." 

Arachne's screams got lost, unheard with the background of Haknyeon's worshippers delighting in the frenzy of their god.

"You think you can go around insulting us, insulting _me_."

The club is hearth-hot, an inferno whose flames are borne of the clash between wisdom and madness. It pulls at the edges Sunwoo's sanity, and though the muddle of alcohol is now gone he still feels that bit of wanting to let go and sway to Haknyeon's influence. Haknyeon's true form is barely held by Sunwoo's request to not drag the mortals into this, body glowing in heat just a decision away from completing his godly form, and in his crazed grin Sunwoo knows that he too must look the same to the other.

"What do you know, Arachne? You barge your way into my space, demanding respect when you give me none, and even fooling an Olympian.

What do you know, Arachne, what do you truly know when all you've done is try to take credit for what I have given you as a blessing? You think I wouldn't have fought back, thought I'd sit, take your help and let you go?" 

Haknyeon's divinity is almost begging at him to let go, whispering dirty against the walls of his mind, looking for a crack in his defenses.

The sleek felinity is purring in his ear, pawing at his clothes heating his skin even more. Sunwoo looks on and, even against his better judgement, entertains the idea of just giving in.

 _But_ ; The remaining king piece that gleams above the chessboard is his.

" _What do you know? You_ ," Sunwoo looks at temptation and starts, grey meeting gold meeting sanity meeting madness, daring Haknyeon to keep pushing to try and take over his will, " _you thought this was just a game_."

**Author's Note:**

> hello again !! believe it or not i dont really have a set sched for updating this series i just write the aus as soon as i can (but ive been stressed over college applications so it took almost a month to write again) dw tho the series is practically finished in my drafts i just need to wait out in between uploads !!
> 
> [my twt!](https://mobile.twitter.com/jjukyus) [my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.qa/kyuisms)


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